


Helping Hands

by Drazyrohk



Series: RP Drabbles [2]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Desk Sex, M/M, RP, RP AU, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Harm, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Work sex, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-07
Updated: 2015-09-07
Packaged: 2018-04-19 14:44:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4750178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drazyrohk/pseuds/Drazyrohk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short fic based on an ongoing RP</p>
<p>Whirl's timing is inconvenient but Ratchet's not going to just leave him hanging...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Helping Hands

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DemonsDaughter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DemonsDaughter/gifts).



> Based on my ongoing role play with DemonsDaughter, in which we have a cracktastically sweet triangle consisting of Ratchet, Whirl and Trailcutter.

Ratchet was technically still on duty when Whirl came into his office. It wasn’t hard to feel the distress rolling off of the rotary, his field thick with it and his frame tense and agitated. 

“I need a hand.” Whirl said simply. Ratchet regarded him for a moment in silence. “Literally. I LITERALLY need a hand, Ratchet.” 

Venting slowly, Ratchet got to his feet and faced the rotary. “What is it this time, Whirl?” He asked softly. 

It was always one thing or another with him. Normally, Ratchet was able to talk him down, and when that failed, the medic would call in Rung. Today, with how frustrated Whirl seemed, it was likely the latter option would be the one they went with.

“Doctor patient confidentiality?” Whirl asked, Ratchet blinking at him in surprise. 

“Wait, this is a medical thing?” He said, Whirl narrowing his optic and looking away. 

Whirl’s claws scratched along his own legs, digging furrows in the paint and actually causing some energon to well up. He was trembling in an almost imperceptible manner. 

“Whirl?” Ratchet extended his field, urging the other mech to speak, to react. When the rotary finally flared his vents, hissed a curse and let out a blast of heated air, Ratchet reeled forward against his desk. “Oh frag, are you alright? Are you ill?” 

“Ratch.” Whirl said, the nickname having moved past the realm of ‘hated’ and into the more grey ‘sort of endearing’ area. It was better than some of the others Ratchet had earned. “I am so charged up. It hurts.” 

Groaning, Ratchet put his hand over his optics. “Whirl, what the frag...” He growled. 

“I tried ignoring it. I... I was gonna call you but you were working and... and so I came down here instead. Cause you’re working and I’m in pain and you’re a doctor and you can make it go away.” Whirl blurted out. 

This was ridiculous. Ratchet hadn’t been Whirl’s lover for very long, and he had seen the rotary pull some stunts along these lines before, but this seemed different. 

Whirl did indeed seem like he was in pain. Not to mention he was boiling in his armor. 

“I can’t deal with this on my own, Ratchet.” Whirl said desperately. “That’s why I need a hand. Yours in particular. Maybe even both of them.” 

“Sit down.” Ratchet said in a begrudging sort of way. “On the desk. I will be right back.” 

Stepping just out his door and informing First Aid that he was treating a patient in his office, Ratchet returned to find that Whirl was still standing where he had left him. He closed and locked the door, giving Whirl an impatient look and gesture. 

“I don’t wanna sit on your desk.” Whirl said, voice wavering. “I’ll just leak all over it.” 

“I don’t care. It can be cleaned off.” Ratchet growled. “Sit down.” 

“Maybe we ought to grab a towel or-” 

“Whirl, do you want me to help you or not?”

Whirl propped himself up on Ratchet’s desk, and the medic wasn’t surprised that he didn’t have to ask him to open his panels. 

“Why do you do this to yourself?” Ratchet said quietly, closing his hand over the swollen spike that rose between the rotary’s legs. Whirl let out a strangled sound, claws digging into Ratchet’s desk and hips lifting slightly. “What were you thinking about?” 

“U-uh, Trails. H-his... That stupid face he makes... his ‘forcefield face?’ It’s the same... same one he makes when... When he’s overloading.” Whirl rocked into his touch when he began firmly pumping his hand along the rotary’s length. “It popped into my head and I couldn’t stop thinking about it so I called him and he’s on duty right now, right so he couldn’t exactly get away from work but... but we talked. H-he was doin’ that shy... low voice, that one he uses when he’s bein’ naughty?” 

Ratchet made a noise of encouragement. Whirl always talked a lot, and normally Ratchet just wanted him to stop, but this wasn’t the usual ‘I’m being a complete douchebag because I can.’ This was Whirl feeling uncomfortable and self conscious and Ratchet was learning how to deal with that. 

“Anyway, that made me th-thiink-” Whirl arched, bucking his hips upwards. Ratchet firmed his grip and let Whirl dictate the pace, his thumb smearing the fluid gathering at the head of the rotary’s spike. “H-hah, it made me think of how he s-sounded when you were... when you were...” 

Whirl lapsed into panting silence, driving his hips into Ratchet’s grip in short jerks. He bowed his head, optic dim, focusing on completion. 

“Go on then.” Ratchet said softly, Whirl looking up at him. A burst of grateful affection flooded Whirl’s field, and Ratchet used his free hand to keep his lover’s transfluid from hitting his chassis as he overloaded. 

It hadn’t taken long. It was honestly a simple thing. 

It made Ratchet mad that Whirl was physically incapable of taking care of such a simple thing himself. 

It took a moment to get cleaned up and to get everything tucked away, Whirl’s frantic cooling fans and venting slowing to more normal levels. Ratchet made sure to clean up the wounds Whirl had inflicted upon himself as well, his own field scolding and concerned. 

“Sorry.” Whirl said, Ratchet looking at him with an eyebrow raised. “I need to learn how to control myself a little better.” 

Snorting, Ratchet shook his head. “If you ever got around to that, I’d be shocked and frightened, Whirl. It’s alright... but I should get back to work.”

“Right right.” Sliding off the desk, Whirl stood there for a moment, fidgeting awkwardly. “Uh, so I’ll see you later?” 

“Of course. I’ll contact you after I’m off shift.” Ratchet offered him a brief smile and he seemed to perk up. “Go behave yourself, please.” 

“Pfft.” Whirl waved his claws around, practically bouncing out of the room. Ratchet rolled his optics.

He couldn’t exactly consider this break well spent, but he wasn’t disappointed. Hand jobs were far more interesting than paperwork, after all.


End file.
